The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I shook my head.

“Stop it, Olivia,” I said. “It’s not that you can’t break up with Ethan. You mean you won’t break up with him.”

“No, Bethany,” said Olivia. “I can’t. I’ve tried. I’ve tried a dozen times. I just can’t.”

“Breaking up is easy,” I said. “Just grab hold of his favorite toy and twist. He’ll suddenly discover he can’t wait to break up with you, even if he has to do it with a higher-pitched voice.”

“It doesn’t work like that with Ethan, Bethany,” she said. “It just doesn’t work at all. Nothing works. I can’t break up with him.”

“For fuck’s sake, Olivia! We’re not teenagers anymore! At 27 years old, men don’t tell us what to do. We tell them what to do. What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Ethan’s different.”

“He’s controlling you, Olivia! He’s even got a collar on you.”

“It’s not a collar! It’s a choker. It’s a symbol of our relationship.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, it’s definitely that all right. Look, I’m going with you tonight. All right? I’m going and I’m going to get you away from him.”

Olivia looked miserable, but I didn’t let her argue. Tonight, whether she liked it or not, she was going to learn how to get rid of a parasite.

We met Ethan at a piano bar called ‘Keys’.

“It’s his last name,” said Olivia. “He thinks it just fits perfectly, being a piano bar and all.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “It’s Ethan’s bar? He owns the bar?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Olivia. “He’s got a bunch of money. He’s loaded.”

I sighed. “No wonder he’s a controlling jerk.”

We moved through the dimly lit lounge as the piano player provided background music. The female musician sang while she played, throaty renditions of well-known and not so well-known tunes. A thin sax player dressed all in black accompanied the piano from time to time.

Olivia led me to a dimly lit table in the back. Ethan was already there.

He was annoyingly good-looking. Dark hair, thick shoulders, just the right amount of five-o’clock shadow. His clothes were expensive and he knew how to wear them. Confidence bordering on arrogance.

His eyes were wrong, though. That’s what Olivia was missing. Ethan’s eyes were just wrong. Dark, brooding, mysterious, whatever you wanted to call them. But they were wrong.

Ethan smiled as we arrived at his table. “Good evening, ladies,” he said. “I don’t recall instructing you to bring anyone tonight, Olivia, but you’ve done well regardless. Who is your attractive friend?”

I looked at Olivia and waited for her to explain my presence, but it only took a glance to realize that she was gazing at him in helpless thrall.

Olivia said, “I…I…you look sooooo good tonight, Ethan. I..”

I rolled my eyes. “My name is Bethany,” I said. “I’m Olivia’s friend. And I’m here to let you know that she’s done with you.”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” I said. “She’s done being bossed around by you. Done being your pretty little arm candy. Done being a decoration. Done being objectified. Just done. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

Ethan smiled. “I don’t believe you do, Bethany,” he said. “Between your articulation and air of barely suppressed rage and violence, I feel you were quite clear. But let’s hear what Olivia has to say, shall we?”

One look at Olivia’s blank gaze of adoration told me that was a lost cause. “Let’s not,” I said. “I’ve already said everything that needed saying.”

“I’m sure you have,” he said. Then, still holding my gaze, he said, “Olivia, sit next to me.”

Olivia immediately moved to the chair next to him and sat down. She leaned forward and put her hand on his leg.

I rolled my eyes again. “Olivia, what the hell is wrong with you? I can’t believe you’re looking at him like that! I can’t believe you—“

Ethan held up his hand.

I glared at him. “Don’t you DARE try to shush me, you arrogant, misogynistic, piece of—“

Ethan held up both hands now. “Easy, Bethany. I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me, but I really think you’re judging me harshly without even knowing me.”

“I know enough,” I grated.

He chuckled. “Perhaps you do,” he said, “or perhaps you only think you do. Either way, do you really think you’re treating me fairly? Does Olivia truly look mistreated?”

Olivia was still gazing at Ethan with big calf-eyes. I shook my head in disgust.

“I have no idea how you managed to inveigle your way into the head of an intelligent woman like Olivia, but I’m not going to let you get away with it.”

Ethan laughed. “I could almost believe you. You have quite the fiery spirit, don’t you?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t patronize me, dickhead.”

He chuckled again. “I’ll tell you what, Bethany. I’ll make you a deal.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Sparky. I don’t make deals with slimeballs.”

Ethan took a swallow of his drink, then set his glass down. “Hear me out, please. I’ll make you a deal. You and I will go out on three dates, which should be a sufficient number for you to get to know me at least somewhat. If after those three dates, you still feel that Olivia and I should part ways, then I will agree to release her.”

I said through gritted teeth, “You’ll agree to release her? Like, what, a fucking prisoner exchange? Who the hell do you think you are? If she doesn’t want to be with you, then it doesn’t matter if I go on dates with you or not.”

Ethan smiled, although it didn’t touch his wrong eyes. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He turned to Olivia. “Olivia, baby, do you want to leave me?”

Olivia said, “Oh, no, sweetie! Never!”

Ethan looked back at me. “See?”

I could feel my face flushing with anger. I couldn’t wait to pry Olivia away from this fucking arrogant asshole.

“You know what?” I said. “Fine. Three dates. After those three dates, you’ll cut her loose. And you’ll keep your word, because if you don’t, I’ll cut your fucking balls off. Understand?”

Ethan tilted his head in a way that almost made it look like a regal bow. “I do indeed, Bethany. Provided, of course, that you still feel she should no longer reside within my orbit.”

“Very little chance of you changing my mind on that, dickhead,” I said. “And to be clear…there will be no sexual payoffs during these ‘dates’, understood?”

Ethan smiled again, and this time his wrong eyes did as well. “Outside your presence,” he said, “I place no expectations upon our dates.”

“Good,” I said. “Then we finally agree on something.”

“Indeed,” he said. “We’ll set our first date for tomorrow night, then. Shall we meet here at, say, seven?”

I gave him a look, then nodded. “Seven is fine.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Until tomorrow night, then.”

I cooled down on the way home, mad more at myself for letting him get under my skin than at Ethan. Ethan was, after all, likely just being his usual misogynistic self and I had no business expecting anything less.

Thinking about expectations reminded me that I knew absolutely nothing about Ethan Keys and since I was going to be going on three dates with the man, I needed to perform some due diligence. Hell, ‘Ethan Keys’ might not even be his real name, for all I knew.

So, with my laptop open and a glass of red wine next to me, I started scanning the usual sites.

A typical scan of criminal record sites produced nothing. Not even a parking ticket. Not that that necessarily meant anything, of course. I had no doubt Ethan had a lawyer every bit as slick as he was and surely wore suits even more expensive than his. Still, I was disappointed not to find at least one or two pending tax evasion charges. Some kind of white-collar criminal activity would have given me something to work with.

I started scanning various social media sites then. He seemed to show up a lot more on other people’s sites than on his own, and it was almost always with women. Very attractive women. He certainly had his share, it seemed. I was almost flattered that he was willing to ask me on a date.

Almost flattered. I hadn’t forgotten what he was about, even if Olivia had.

His own sites seemed to focus more on his bar and the various celebrities that stopped in from time to time. There were quite a number of pictures of him sitting with actors, sports stars and others of similar fame. I had to grudgingly admit he did appear to have a certain level of notoriety.

Whatever. I was not going to let him take advantage of Olivia any longer.

Chrystal Heights clerk of courts didn’t give me any joy. I checked the property appraiser to see if he really owned the bar, and if he did, who his partners were. But all I learned was that he was indeed the owner, and the sole owner at that.

I even checked the sexual predator website, but came up just as empty.

So after an evening spent digging into Ethan’s background, I knew very little that I didn’t already know. Whatever. It was just three dates and that was the last I’d have to hear of Ethan Key.

“Good evening,” said Ethan. “Right on time, I see. Shall we commence?”

I had to admit he looked good. He was clean-shaven tonight and wearing a different suit from the evening before. It was tailored well and accentuated his movements, rather than hindering them, and probably cost more than my car. Whatever.

He stepped forward and offered his arm. I placed a hand on his forearm and smiled tolerantly. He could play a gallant gentleman all he liked, but I knew what he was about. He did smell nice, though. Masculine.

I didn’t like Ethan and I hated being on his arm like a piece of fluff. But I had to admit that walking through his bar, with every eye in the place focused on me and knowing Ethan’s reputation for only dating high-end women, gave me a warm rush. I glanced down, blushing as I realize the sensation in my belly had made me slightly wet. Not that I’d ever admit that to Ethan.

We exited the club. To my surprise, a limousine awaited us. The driver opened the door for us with a tip of his cap.

Ethan wasn’t fooled by my non-chalance. “You expected less?”

I ignored him.

Ethan motioned for me to enter first, so I slid onto the plush limo seating, settling in. Ethan then entered and took his place on the seat next to me. I felt he was sitting closer to me than necessary, his hand on the seat right next to my leg, though not touching. Not quite.

It was weird. Twenty-seven years old and I felt like a fucking teenager on a date. I thrust it out of my mind and made a show of looking through the windows, watching the scenery pass.

Despite our proximity, Ethan thankfully made no move to touch me. “You really should relax, Bethany,” he said. “We’re just going out for dinner and conversation. Your purity is quite safe this evening.”

I shrugged, but strangely enough, I did feel myself relaxing slightly. Ethan was still a jerk, but at least he was sensitive to the awkwardness of the situation.

He left me alone for the rest of the ride. Eventually the limo pulled in front of our destination and the driver got out and circled around to open our door.

As I stepped out of the limo, I realized we were at The Avenue, a five-star restaurant in downtown Heights that had a menu without prices and a maître d’ that could out-British the queen. Or at least the story went, since I had never set foot in the place. A doorman opened the door as we approached.

“Good evening, Mister Key,” said the doorman. “So good of you to join us again.”

Ethan nodded as we entered. “Thank you, Lawrence.”

Our way was suddenly blocked by a large man in a perfectly tailored tux. It was difficult to see his eyes, as his head was tilted back. He studied us as he stared down the bridge of his nose.

I paused, prepared to walk right back out the door, but Ethan just said, “Good evening, Charles. Have you lost weight? You’re looking well.”

The ghost of a smile passed over his face. “Thank you for noticing, sir. Your table is ready, of course. Follow me, please.”

The legendary maître d’, then. And Ethan was all buddy-buddy with him.

I looked at Ethan. “We just arranged the date last night. How were you able to get reservations at a place that’s usually booked weeks in advance?”

Ethan shrugged modestly. “There are always cancellations, tables held in reserve for unexpected VIP guests, that sort of thing. I’m sure I just got lucky.”

Grrrrr. Fucking showoff.

Ethan grinned, as if he could read my mind. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, my sweet.”

Flushing, I said, “Don’t call me that.”

Charles showed us to our table, pulling out my chair for me before allowing me to sit. A pitcher of ice water awaited us. He took our drink orders and disappeared, moving impossibly fast and quiet for a big man.

We studied the menu in silence for a few minutes. I got the impression that Ethan was just being polite, as he likely already knew the menu well. A waiter arrived with our drinks and took our order. The waiter wasn’t quite as snooty as Charles, but you could tell he aspired to be.

The food ordering business done, Ethan settled back, a half-smile on his face. “So tell me, Bethany,” he said, drink in hand, “just what is it about me that you feel makes me so bad for Olivia?”

Your eyes, I thought. Your eyes are all wrong.

“The way you treat her,” I said.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. I hated how aristocratic that made him look. “The way I treat her?”

“Yes. Like property. Like she’s your property.”

He smiled again. His eyes were wrong, but his smile…his lips…actually weren’t bad. Almost sensual.

“I’m sorry you see it that way,” he said, “but I’m afraid I have to disagree. Olivia is quite free to come and go as she pleases. I’ve never placed any restrictions on her.”

I took a swallow of my wine, which was superb. The best red wine I’d ever tried, by far. “I don’t mean restrictions like chains,” I said. “I mean emotional chains. She can’t make a move unless she knows you approve.”

He looked thoughtful then and I was again struck by how sensual his mouth was. There was mystery in the strength of his jawline, his lips, something I couldn’t put my finger on. Something expressive. Stealthy, enigmatic one moment, straightforward the next, unfathomable after that. I wanted to kiss his mouth, to taste those lips…

I gasped, pulling myself from the thought-stream. Where the hell did that come from?

Ethan looked at me, his eyes slightly narrowed in apparent concern. The expression looked foreign on his features. “Are you all right, my sweet?”

“Of course I am,” I said, taking another swallow of wine to cover my irritation. “And I told you not to call me that.”

Ethan chuckled. “Of course you did,” he said. “My apologies.”

I steered the conversation away from Olivia then, into safer territory while I re-centered myself. By the time I was ready to get back to business, our meals arrived, so there was a brief respite as we began eating.

I was shocked at how rich the food tasted. Ethan ate without pause, apparently used to decadent dining, but it was a new experience for me. I was savoring every bite, trying to hide my pure pleasure. Ethan wasn’t fooled and appeared to enjoy my almost silent moans of indulgence.

Of course, I wasn’t going to admit that part of my enjoyment derived from watching his mouth move, his jawline shifting as he chewed his steak. It was just…so masculine.

I gasped again as I jerked myself out of that thought-stream, although it was less jarring this time. All right, fine, so I liked the man’s lips. Not a big deal. I could like his lips without liking the man himself. Geez.

We made it through dinner without me further embarrassing myself, so I considered it a win. I finally set my fork on the plate and pushed it away from me, stifling a belch. I forced myself to look at Ethan again.

“All right,” I said, “let’s get back to it. Back to your plans with Olivia.”

“Of course,” said Ethan. “As you wish. But first, there is some sauce on your cheek. Please allow me.”

Ethan lifted his clean, white cloth napkin to his mouth and pressed it to his tongue. I suddenly knew what he was going to do—I knew—but for some reason I was unable to react, to form a protest, anything. In what felt like slow motion, he moved the cloth from his tongue and moved it toward me, pressing it against the side of my mouth. He held it there for several moments. Then he wiped off whatever it was he had seen.

I lubricated. Completely, helplessly, embarrassingly wet.

And worse, I was sure he knew. Positive he could smell my arousal. But all he did was pull back his napkin and set it back on his lap.

“I’m sorry, my sweet,” he said. “You were saying…?”

My heart was beating in my throat. I was so wet, my panties soaked. I was tempted to slip off to the bathroom, do what I needed to do to be able to think straight. But I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

“I was saying…” I said, controlling my squirm with an iron will, “…I was saying…do they have a dessert menu?”

The bastard laughed. Grrrrrr.

I made it through dinner without further embarrassing myself. Dessert was something I couldn’t pronounce, but it was so decadent and heady, it felt like a religious experience.

We exited the restaurant and Ethan’s limousine was waiting outside. The driver once again held open the door. Ethan put a hand on my hip as I slid into the car, ostensibly helping me inside. I let him get away with it. I was aching to get home now, aching with need to get home, to get my vibe, to obliterate the heat in my belly. And to maybe put a dent in a bottle of wine.

Ethan was once again sitting too close to me, on the edge of my personal space, his masculine scent enveloping me. His lips once again distracting me.

I squirmed in my seat. Concentration was a chore. I realized I was unconsciously wriggling my hips and I immediately stopped. I pressed my thighs together and bit my lower lip. I wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to me. Wasn’t going to happen.

Ethan said, “Are you all right, my sweet?”

Grrrrrr. “I told you not to call me that!”

“You’re right, of course,” he said. “I apologize. I only asked because we’ve been back at the bar for several minutes and you haven’t moved.”

I looked up. Crap. It was true. We were parked in front of Ethan’s piano bar. I immediately got up to move for the door, but I stumbled slightly and tumbled across Ethan’s lap.

Ethan caught me, his arms around my shoulders, his face inches from mine. I gazed at his face…those lips…just inches from mine. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

“Be careful, my sweet,” he said. “We wouldn’t want you getting hurt before you separate Olivia from myself, would we?”

Then he leaned in slightly and pressed his lips against mine.

I couldn’t have pulled away even if I had tried, but I didn’t even try. I had no strength. I moaned into his mouth, helpless to stop, as the sudden intensity from our lips touching caused my barely restrained heat to smolder, seethe and then explode.

I shuddered as pure heat and pleasure surged through my body. I knew I was wriggling in his arms, moaning like a slut as his kiss turned me into a squirming, overheated creature of want and need. His lips, his tongue seemed to activate every erogenous zone I had and I suddenly realized that if I didn’t stop right now…if I didn’t get away this very moment…I never would. I’d be naked on the floor of Ethan’s limo, on all fours, my bare hips high as he stroked into me again and again, filling me, using me as he would any other object he owned…

With a sudden wrench of will, I pulled away and rolled off his lap. It was undignified, but that was the least of my worries now. I scrambled for the door handle.

Ethan didn’t try to stop me. He chuckled as I tumbled out the door.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner, my sweet,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven.”

He smiled, his wrong eyes glittering. Then he reached over and pulled the door shut.

I made it home somehow, although I didn’t remember the drive. My legs were weak.

Holy shit. No wonder Olivia wouldn’t leave. He was power and heat and intensity. Edgy. Potent.

And dangerous.

My heart was still racing. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down. One wrong step was all it would take. Just one wrong step.

I wasn’t going to take that step.

But I still needed to get Olivia away from him. Now more than ever.

It was time to get back to my research.

This being Chrystal Heights, the dark web—the real dark web—can be accessible, if you know where to look. Very few people do look, of course, as sometimes the sites you’re looking at on this dark web are looking back at you. And sometimes the computers used to look at these sites—as well as the users—are never the same afterward. Sometimes the unknown should remain just that.

I was aware of the dangers and I had no intention of burrowing into the dark corners of that space. I just wanted some information about Ethan Key that might not be available on the more mainstream websites.

So I did some surface scanning, poking around here and there. Not going too deep, just trying to get a feel for what I was dealing with. Finally I settled on the Heights Underline.

The Chrystal Heights Underline was the most notorious underground tabloid you’d never heard of. Nobody knew anything about it, including who published it or how they got their information. They were loved and hated, partly because they sometimes printed exaggerations and outright lies, and partly because sometimes they weren’t exaggerations or outright lies. Their motto was ‘All the news, whether you like it or not’ and that was appropriate. They specialized in gossip and embarrassing photos, celebrity or otherwise, but they didn’t limit themselves to mere fluff, any more than they allowed themselves to be limited by mere facts. They were indiscriminate about what they published and they followed no ideology. They simply published the stories as they got the information. Regardless of how they had gotten it.

The Underline had been around a long time. Well over a hundred and fifty years. Considering the earliest forms of the Internet didn’t exist until 1968, it raised the question as to how the Underline had managed to get digital photos and stories from the 1800s, but when dealing with the very dark web in Chrystal Heights, it was a bad idea to ask questions. You might get answers.

I entered Ethan’s name and set the Underline’s date search engine to find anything mentioning Ethan in the last two years. Then I hit enter. There was a swirling of looked like digital smoke and I had to wait for a bit as the search engine’s multiple personalities argued back-and-forth. There was a sudden piercing wail as one of the personalities got slapped and it stormed off for a good cry. Then a number of links appeared.

I sighed. As expected, the Ethan Key mentions were little more than vague tidbits. ‘Guess what infamous bar owner showed up with actress Blue O’Day on his arm?’ may have been juicy gossip, but it didn’t help me at all.

I shook my head, exasperated. The Heights Underline really was a rag. And then, just as I was about to give it up, I saw it. And I was pissed.

“What the hell are you thinking?!” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re dating a man that you actually took out a restraining order against…!”

Olivia shrugged, embarrassed, and said, “Take it easy, Bethany. That was just a misunderstanding, you know?”

I wanted to strangle her. “A restraining order isn’t a misunderstanding!”

Olivia sighed and flipped her hand, as if shooing away the conversation. “This one was.”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. How was it possible for a woman—any woman!— to let a man turn their brains into goop? I just didn’t get it. No matter how good those orgasms might be.

I strolled into Ethan’s bar for the second date over an hour late. Intentionally so.

It was a calculated move, intended to make sure Ethan knew I was calling the shots. Or at least not letting him call the shots. A lesson that Olivia very much needed to learn.

“You look lovely, my sweet,” he said, tilting his head slightly in greeting. “Beautiful, mysterious and not at all tardy.”

I allowed myself a slight smirk. “I’m a busy woman. Sometimes time gets away from me. You’ll pardon my lack of punctuality, won’t you?”

“Of course,” he said. Then, before I had a chance to react, he was suddenly in my personal space. Leaning in toward me. His lips inches from mine. “But you must pay the price.”

I froze, unable to move. His scent filled my nostrils, did things inside me. My belly muscles twitched, jumped. I was wet. So wet. I couldn’t think outside this moment. I felt the weight of his hand on my hip, his physical presence swallowing mine. And I knew—I knew—he was about to make me orgasm again. Here. Now. In front of everybody. With nothing more than his touch.

“No…!” I whispered, unable to project my voice. I turned my head slightly, an almost negligible movement that still somehow served to communicate my resistance, to break his momentary spell.

He remained motionless for an eternity of seconds. Then he smiled and I knew my dignity was safe for the moment. He straightened and looked me up and down.

“As I was about to say,” he said, “that as lovely as you look, you are dressed inappropriately for our destination.”

Preventing Ethan from kissing me may have protected my dignity, but it had left me an embarrassingly wet, aroused mess. Anger at myself for letting him get to me like that added a little edge to my words as I said, “Well, you should have said something earlier. I didn’t bring another outfit with me.”

Ethan turned slightly and put a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the back of the neon-lit bar. “Fear not, my sweet,” he said. “I happen to have any number of outfits in the back that will serve.”

I wanted to let him know I wasn’t going to change clothes on his say-so. I had every intention of telling him that. But for some reason, all I managed was, “I told you not to call me that.”

Ten minutes later, I was once again standing in front of Ethan, and once again I was not happy. In fact, I was fuming.

“What the hell?!” I said, glaring at him. “You say I’m over-dressed and then you proceed to dress me in even less clothing than I was wearing?”

He simply gave me a smile that didn’t touch his wrong eyes. “I didn’t say you were over-dressed, my sweet. I said you were dressed inappropriately. Now you’re not.”

Ethan had handed me off to one of his bar managers, who had guided me to a changing room. She had taken my dress from me before giving me the ‘outfit’ I was expected to wear. By the time I had recovered enough to protest—or outright refuse—she was already gone. With my dress. And my shoes. And since that left me with the choice of putting on the ‘outfit’, such as it was, or walking into the common area dressed only in my underwear, I really didn’t have much choice. I put on the outfit.

I glanced at the bar mirror. The black micro-skirt was stretchy over my hips, but flared out in pleats that barely covered my rear end. The silk top whispered over my breasts, but was cut in a way that left my cleavage exposed and emphasized. A strip of belly showed between the skirt and the top. Black high heels completed the ensemble, what little there was of it.

High quality material, admittedly. The shoes alone were probably worth more than my entire wardrobe. I looked embarrassingly hot. Deliciously decadent, in a way. But I knew Ethan was intentionally putting me on display. Whether I liked it or not.

I just wished my nipples weren’t so embarrassingly hard. Hiding my arousal was hard enough already.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll wear the stupid outfit. But this is the last time I let you pull a stunt like this. Understand?”

“Of course, my sweet,” he said. “Shall we go?”

I lifted my chin and strolled past him, trying to ignore the feel of the air swirling around my bare thighs. I could feel my hips rolling as I walked, but I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Grrrrrrrr.

Getting into the limo without flashing the world was perhaps the greatest physical challenge I had ever engaged in, but I managed it. Yay, me.

Then Ethan got into the limo. Sat down next to me. Slid even closer, our hips touching. Marking me with his scent. Thirty seconds into the trip and I was already wriggling, pressing my thighs together, trying desperately to ignore the effect his proximity was having on my belly muscles.

The limo slid effortlessly into gear and there was a slight shift. Then he turned to me. When he spoke, his breath was warm against my ear.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You seem agitated.”

“I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth, well aware that I had jumped when he spoke so close to my ear.

“Excellent,” he said. “Then on to other business. Give me your panties.”

I blinked for a moment, not sure I’d heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me, Bethany,” he said. “Give me your panties.”

He was out of his mind. “No way,” I said. “Not happening.”

“It wasn’t a request,” said Ethan. “It was an instruction. I told you there would be a price to pay for being late and that price isn’t the clothing you’re now wearing…it’s losing your right to underclothing. Now give me your panties.”

He said it in a voice and although I opened my mouth to protest, my hands were suddenly slipping under my skirt, my thumbs hooking into the waistband of my underwear, drawing my sopping wet panties down my thighs, over my ankles. Lifting my heels to free my underwear. Putting my panties in his outstretched hand.

Ethan closed his hand, bunching my panties in his fist. He glanced down at the pink garment. Then he glanced at me. His gaze dropped to the pink garment, then moved back to me.

There was no hiding how drenched they were. I lowered my eyes, my cheeks burning.

The limo dropped us off in front of a high-end club called Underworld. The patrons were well-dressed, edgy and answered to no one. The décor was a mix of brick and gothic black, with neon backlighting and music that bordered on something between sinister punk and rock metal.

Ethan took me by the arm and strode purposely through the crowds, pausing to acknowledge someone or exchange greetings. He seemed quite at ease.

I, on the other hand, was jumpy as hell. I was walking through a crowd of strangers, practically naked. I was so embarrassingly wet, I was squishing. I was pretty sure everyone could smell my arousal. My nipples were rock hard and pressing out against the thin material of my top. There was almost nothing between my naked body and this group of dangerous individuals.

And then Ethan said, “Wait here.” He disappeared a moment later, leaving me alone.

Heart beating in my throat, I stepped backward, keeping a wall against my back. But it didn’t help. A man stepped up to me. He looked at me, then right through me. It was unnerving. Then I realized he had a woman with him. They were both a bit older than me…in their mid-30s or so.

“Look, Vell,” said the man. “A newbie.”

“I do see, Den,” said the woman. She was dressed so provocatively that she was practically undressed, but the little she was wearing somehow enhanced and even amplified her sensuous heat. The cleavage formed from her full, lush breasts was there, inviting a touch, a kiss, but promising helpless slavery as well.

Den said, “I think she likes you, Vell.”

Vell moved directly into my personal space. Pressed her heavy breasts against mine. Her perfume danced over my nostrils as I gazed into her cleavage.

“That’s good,” she said, her voice a velvety purr. “I like her too.”

Her hand was on my hip now. Her bare belly against mine. My knees were weak. Vell leaned forward and sensuously licked my cheek, her cinnamon breath warm and light. I whimpered, melting before the pure lust being projected by this creature of heat. Any thoughts of resistance were dissipating like mist.

“Why, Vell,” said a familiar voice. “Don’t you know it’s bad manners to make a move on someone’s date?”

Vell froze for a moment. Then her hand slid up my side, behind my shoulder, and gripped my hair from behind. She pulled my hair, forcing my head back, exposing my throat.

“Hello, Ethan,” said Vell, turning her head slightly. “Is this delicious morsel yours?”

“Yes,” said Ethan, “and I’ll thank you to take your hands off her.”

“You’re not willing to share with an old friend?” said Vell, affecting a pout. She turned back and gave my neck a bite, firm enough to be felt, soft enough to not break the skin. Barely.

“I know better than to share with a succubus. Even a half-succubus,” said Ethan. Then his voice hardened. “Now release her.”

There was a sudden, silent tension. Then Vell released my hair and stepped back.

“Of course,” she said. “My apologies. I had no idea she was yours.”

Ethan smiled, then turned to Den. “Keep your creature on a leash, Den.”

Den held up both hands. “Sorry, Ethan. I had no idea she was yours.”

Ethan held his gaze for a moment. Then he put a hand on my lower back and guided me away from the pair. My knees were still weak and I was so aroused that Ethan’s hand on the top of my ass was almost enough to make orgasm.

Ethan chuckled. “You can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”

Grrrrr. “I was fine,” I said. “I could have handled her without your help.”

“Really?” he said. “Vell is half-succubus. If I hadn’t come back when I did, you’d already be on your knees servicing her like a good little girl. If you were lucky, you’d wake up tomorrow with nothing more than an embarrassing brand and a memory of an uninhibitedly wanton, licentious night. If you were unlucky, you’d wake up with a collar locked on your throat proclaiming Vell as your new owner.”

“Oh, please,” I said. “I would have been—wait…did you say ‘branded’…?”

“Yes,” he said. “Vell likes to leave her mark, even if it’s just for a night’s conquest.”

I blinked. “Where does she, umm, brand her victims?”

“Depends on her mood. Back shoulder-blade. Thigh. Hip. Or even…”— Ethan moved his hand down and patted my rounded bottom—“…the derriere.”

I was quiet for a moment. Then I said, “Why did she let me go when you showed up?”

He smiled, showing his teeth. “Professional courtesy.”

We continued moving through the club. I was intimidated by my surroundings, but there was no denying there was an edgy ambiance to this place, a breathless intensity, a feeling that anything could happen at any moment. Sounds and smells were acting on my nervous system like drugs, enhancing my already throbbing arousal. Every movement sent a rush of excitement and heat racing through me, my belly muscles twitching and thrumming to the beat of the background music.

And I was caught in this dark underworld wonderland without panties.

How the hell was I supposed to concentrate without underwear in a skirt so short it barely covered my ass? And how the hell did he manage to make me give up my panties in any case? I just…took them off and gave them to him. And why the hell was I even listening to Olivia’s boyfriend in the first place?

And on top of all that…oh, gawd, did I ever need to come. In fact, that was the only thing I could really think about right now.

I couldn’t ignore it. I took a breath and faced what I had to do. Then I turned to Ethan and said, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Ethan looked at me speculatively. He wasn’t fooled a bit.

“Of course you do,” he said. “I’ll take you there. But first, a ground rule.”

“A what?”

“A ground rule,” he repeated. “You may be tempted to relieve your tension in some way. Do not do so.”

I stared at him. “I beg your pardon?!”

“You are not to do so.”

“You have an amazing amount of gall!” I said. “I have no intention of doing such a thing, but if I decided to, then I would by all means do so, whether you gave your permission or not.”

The bastard looked amused. “This way,” he said, turning and walking away.

I fumed as I followed him. Who the hell did he think he was?

He led me to a small hallway. “Right in there,” he said. “I’ll wait here for you. Unless, of course, you’d prefer I come inside with you and help…relieve you in any way.”

I loftily ignored his remark and walked into the bathroom. I immediately went to a stall and locked myself inside. Moments later my fingers were under my micro-skirt, sliding into my sopping wet pussy.

I’d never done anything like this in a club stall before, but this was an emergency. I’d never been so fucking hot in my life before this. I just needed to take the edge off. Just one quick fucking orgasm.

Except I couldn’t come.

I worked my clit desperately, using every trick I could think of, but it wouldn’t happen. I hit the brink and stayed there, a squirming, wriggling wet mess. I was so hot and wrecked, I was ready to cry, but it wouldn’t happen.

“FUCK!” I screamed, my legs splayed, hips bucking, aroused, frustrated, helpless, angry, desperate. “FUCK!”

I heard tittering from the other stalls and realized I wasn’t alone. Probably hadn’t been for some time. I’d been so out of it that I’d completely missed the fact that I had an audience to my trying to jill myself off in a public stall.

Aroused, frustrated, helpless, angry, desperate and now horribly embarrassed. I wanted to disappear.

Admitting defeat, I got to my feet and settled my skirt back into place, at least as much as the tiny article allowed. I stepped out of the stall and took a deep breath, settling myself as much as possible.

Two girls were standing in front of a mirror. They turned and looked me up and down. Then one of them said, “You’re the girl who came in with Ethan, aren’t you?”

The fuck?

I nodded, knowing they knew what I had just been doing in the stall, knowing they could smell my arousal. I waited to hear their comments, their little chirps.

But all they did was help fix my hair where Vell had grabbed it.

I made my way back to Ethan.

“You were gone a while,” he said. “Were you distracted?”

I didn’t reply.

The music changed slightly and suddenly a more beat-centric song sounded, dance music. People moved onto the dance floor. Hot, writhing bodies, erotic dances. The scent of heat, sex, arousal. Domination, submission, loss of control. Heat.

“Come on,” said Ethan. “Time to dance.”

I turned to him, half in protest, half in panic. “No,” I said. “I don’t dance.”

“You will now,” he said.

“No, I won’t,” I said, hanging on to myself by the very tips of my mental fingers.

“Dance with me,” he said, “or I’ll give you to Vell.”

My eyes widened for the moment it took me to realize he didn’t mean it, but it was too late. He sensed the wavering of my will and moved in, taking my hand and pulling me to the dance floor before I could formulate another refusal.

And once we were on the dance floor, the music swept over me, took over. I found myself wriggling, writhing to the beat, hips moving unbidden, arms high, belly muscles twitching, jumping. My arousal fed into my body’s flow, the beat matching the throbbing in my pussy, my heated aching need feeding into my helplessly uninhibited movements. I couldn’t stop dancing, moving, fucking.

And the bastard just smiled. Watching me with his wrong eyes.

The song shifted, moving into another verse, a similar beat. I still couldn’t stop dancing. Feet moving, hips rolling, belly gyrating, I was showing off my body, my curves, my desirability.

And then I saw Ethan’s face and realized it wasn’t me. It was Ethan showing off my body. And I couldn’t stop.

“Just let go,” he said. “You’re doing fine. Quite lovely.”

He reached out a hand and my hand extended for his without thought. He pulled me in close, his other hand wrapping around my waist, his steps matching mine, our hips moving in tandem to the driving beat. The music was the driving force behind our heated dance, but my burning arousal was the fuel.

Despite the throng of moving bodies around us, his masculine scent was singular in my awareness. It made promises. Promises of heat and helplessness, power and decadence. I couldn’t breathe.

And then, as we moved to the middle of the dance floor, he looked down at me. His wrong eyes glittered as he said, “Lift your arms.”

I blinked for a moment. Then my eyes widened as I intuited his intention.

Breathless, I said, “No fucking way am I going to—“

“Lift your arms now,” he said, and my arms went straight up.

Ethan murmured, “Good girl.” Then he pulled my top straight up and off my body, leaving me a wet, aroused mess dancing topless in front of a crowded club full of strangers.

Oh, gawd. I was blushing from my hairline to my waistline, but I couldn’t stop moving, twirling, gyrating to the throbbing beat. I was trying, trying to force my will on my rolling hips, my undulating belly, my rebellious legs. Trying to take back control of my body. But taking back control required going through a fingerprint security system and Ethan’s hand blocked the way.

Hands still above my head, I was on full display. My hips bucked, almost crudely, leaving little doubt to anyone watching I was a wanton slut. Vell watched with intense interest, her eyes following my every gyration. Den watched as well, his gaze locked on my breasts, the heavy bulge in his pants speaking louder than words.

“Such a good girl deserves a reward,” murmured Ethan.

And then he let me come.

It wasn’t a full release—I think, had he allowed me a full release, I’d have brought down the ceiling—but it was a release nonetheless. My eyes widened as I realized too late what was happening, too late to resist or at least prepare for the sudden explosion of heat and pleasure that took over my body. My head flung back and I screamed, forgetting for a moment I was in front of a large, interested audience as I dropped to my knees, my hands clapped between parted thighs, my nipples impossibly rigid as my hips bucked, again and then again. I was helpless to stop the intense flow, the heated ripples rushing through my belly.

And then the music stopped, as just as abruptly, so did my orgasm.

I opened my eyes and realized I was on my knees, sitting on my heels, my knees wide, my wet, naked pussy on full display. The club was silent.

Then the music started playing again.

I scrambled to my feet and spun around, looking for Ethan, my arms crossed over my bare breasts. I could fucking think straight finally and my body was my own again, and I intended to keep it that way. I’d had enough of this fucking club and I was leaving now, with or without Ethan. I’d take a fucking Uber if I had to, but first I needed my top back. I had no intention of walking through this club topless, let alone taking a Uber ride.

I found him sitting at a nearby table, a drink in his hand. Another drink was on the table as well. He glanced at me as I approached.

“Hello again, my sweet,” he said. “Did you enjoy your reward?”

This time when he smiled, his wrong eyes did as well.

I saw my top sitting on his lap, so I snatched it before he had a chance to realize what I was doing. Or perhaps he did know what I was doing, but chose not to interfere. Either way, I had my top back in my possession and on my body, and it was going to stay there.

“Take me home,” I said.

He looked amused. “So soon?”

“Take me home,” I repeated. “Now.”

He gave me a look and his eyes appeared to bleed black for a moment. Then they were back to normal and he said, “Your wish is my command, my sweet.”

I ignored the irony of that statement and just took the win. Such as it was.

The limo ride back to Ethan’s bar was quiet. Ethan was quiet because he appeared to be at total ease with how the evening was going, and I was quiet because I was still desperately overheated and aroused.

Ethan reached into a compartment and pulled out a bottle of chilled champagne. He poured himself a glass, then glanced at me. “You’ve been dry all evening, my sweet. A glass for you.”

I looked at him. He was sitting comfortably, glass in hand, knees parted, his formidable scent filling my nostrils. Just fucking sitting there.

For the first time I thought about Ethan’s cock.

Despite my molten state, I hadn’t thought about his cock before now. He was Olivia’s boyfriend for one thing and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction for another. But now I found myself thinking about his cock.

And then I knew what I was going to do. I was going to make him as miserable as I was.

It was a fucking brilliant idea. I turned toward Ethan, shifted, and pressed my hand between his legs.

His only reaction was a slight raising of an eyebrow.

Arrogant bastard. I was going to show him good.

Regardless of his casual reaction, I felt his dick stirring under his pants. I worked it a bit more until I was sure he was good and hard. Painfully hard, even. Then I undid his belt and pants, pulling them down far enough to allow his now-rigid cock to spring free.

So far, so good. I licked my palm, making my hand nice and slick. Then I reached down, wrapped my fingers around his shaft and started pumping his dick with my fist.

Using nothing but my hand, I was going to make him need to come as badly as I needed to come. And once he was at that point…once I could see how badly he wanted it, needed it…I was going to stop.

I pumped his cock with my fist, up and down, up and down, a rhythmic motion that was sensuous in its own right. I was already becoming familiar with every bump, every ridge on his thick shaft. The long stroke to the base, against his heavy balls, then back up again.

And then, at last, I sensed it was coming. His cock became harder, thicker. His balls were swelling. He was close. Really close. And knowing what I was about to do, I looked at him, locked eyes with him, and smirked. And then I released his cock.

I shifted my position then and got on the floor between his knees. I leaned forward and ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft. I did it again, then again. And then I slid my warm, wet mouth over the head of his cock. A moment later my tightly wrapped lips were sliding up and down Ethan’s dick.

My head bobbed as the limo made its way toward Ethan’s bar. Up and down, again and again, inadvertently slurping from time to time. My own heated arousal was adding to my effort, my belly muscles twitching and jumping with each movement as the sensation of my lips sliding over Ethan’s rigid shaft fed into my heat.

It wasn’t until his cock hardened even more, a bar of hot, molten steel, his balls shifting as he prepared to unload inside my mouth, that I realized what had happened, what I was doing, but it was too late by then.

Ethan exploded inside my mouth.

His hot seed was shooting deep into my throat and I found myself desperately swallowing every drop, my throat working as his molten river of cum forced itself into my belly. For long seconds it was all I could do to keep up with his heavy flow, my mouth still working his shaft as he came.

The explosion of sperm finally slowed and tapered off, but his cock didn’t soften and my bobbing head didn’t stop. I continued sucking his still-rigid dick.

My eyes widened in sudden realization and I looked up, my lips wrapped around the base of his shaft. Ethan looked down at me, his eyes locking my gaze. He lifted his champagne glass and took a deep swallow. Then he looked down at me and smirked.

And then I found myself sucking his cock again.

I couldn’t stop. My warm, wet mouth stroked over his cock again and again, and he came again and again. Four more times my mouth worked him to ejaculation, and four more times he made me swallow every drop of his thick, heavy loads.

I was so full. His sperm was sitting heavy in my belly and I tried not to think of what it was going to do to my digestive system. My jaw ached, having been locked in dick-sucking position for so long. I couldn’t even catalogue my other discomforts. And now he was coming again, his cock just as hard as it had been the first time, his explosion of hot, potent semen just as powerful as it had been the first several times. And once more I helplessly swallowed the hot flow, helpless to stop, unable to prevent the heavy flow from entering my belly.

Except this time, he reached down and placed his hand against my throat. And just like that, I stopped swallowing.

He didn’t stop coming, however. His cock spurted again, then again and then one final time, with the final time topping off the full load in my mouth.

Ethan looked down at me, his wrong eyes locked with mine, my mouth still locked on his cock. Then he turned and opened the limo door, treating the patrons milling in front of his club to the sight of me on my knees between Ethan’s legs, his dick in my mouth. Just another slut working Ethan’s cock. Except I couldn’t take my mouth off his cock. Or swallow the cum in my mouth.

Ethan patted my puffed-out cheek. “Keep that there until you get home, okay, my sweet? And be sure to wear a short skirt for our final date tomorrow. And a halter-top. And high heels. Anything else is going to leave you a very unsatisfied girl.”

He stood, sliding his cock out of my mouth smoothly. My mouth closed instinctively, my lips pressed tightly together, preventing most of the semen in my mouth from escaping.

Most of it. A small trail made its way down my chin to my jaw. And whatever the bastard had done that was making me walk around with a mouthful of his cum was also preventing me from wiping my mouth. Grrrrrrrrr.

Exiting the car with everybody staring at me—everybody that had seen me on my knees with a cock in my mouth, seen me with a mouthful of semen, with no underwear, a sopping wet pussy, rock-hard nipples—was the most embarrassing moment of my life. My knees popped when I walked, my jaw ached, my neck was so sore I couldn’t turn my head and my lips were numb. And yet I was so aroused, I could barely concentrate. I was walking around in a daze, desperately trying to focus enough to get home, get to safety, and swallow this fucking horrible mouthful of semen.

I made it home and managed to force that final mouthful down. If I ever got a chance, I was going to choke that bastard.

I took a long hot shower, which helped ease some of my physical aches. Then I settled in front of my computer, ignoring the rumbling in my belly. It was time to find out more about Ethan. Just what the hell was I dealing with here?

I made my way back to the very dark web and navigated to The Heights Underline site once more. I typed Ethan’s name into the search engine once again, but this time left the date range empty. I wanted to see everything, not just the last couple years.

I hit enter and watched the swirl of digital smoke as I waited for the snarky search engine to spank its inner moppet or whatever it needed to do to bring me the information. After several seconds, the screen cleared and I found myself looking at an extended list of links.

At this point, seeing Ethan Key appearing in a large number of photos with various celebrities wasn’t surprising. I already knew he was a man about town, yada yada. What was surprising, however, were the dates.

Ethan was a man who appeared to be in his middle-to-late 30s or early 40s. There were a number of pictures available from the past 20 years. And he looked strangely similar in all of them. That could be understood, simply written off as Ethan aging well…but I was finding pictures of him from several past decades.

He was apparently…older…than I had realized. Likely older than anybody realized.

A scan of the various stories didn’t provide any insight, however. No insight into Ethan’s history or abilities. And I really wanted to know something about Ethan’s abilities. In particular how he was able to override my will and make me…do things. Make my body his plaything. How was he able to do that?

I leaned back in my chair and sighed, one hand on my cum-bloated belly, the fingers of my other hand absently working my aching clit, trying to force my heat past that peak, into that place of release.

Tomorrow was our third and final date. Ethan was going to give me some answers tomorrow whether he liked it or not. And he was going to let me come if I had to fucking choke him to make it happen.

I arrived on-time for this date. I wasn’t taking any chances on Ethan making me go out naked as punishment for being late.

It wasn’t Ethan whom I saw first, though. It was Olivia.

She shook her head. “I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d show.”

I blinked. Not showing up hadn’t actually occurred to me. What the fuck?

Then my throbbing pussy reminded me that it wouldn’t have mattered if I had considered not showing up.

I shrugged. “I’m here,” I said. “Where’s Ethan?”

Olivia smiled. “He’s at his table,” she said. “He’s waiting for you.”

I gave Olivia a nod. “Cool.”

Olivia stepped to the side. “You’d better get over there,” she said. “You don’t want to be late. Trust me.”

I gave her a look, not sure if she was kidding or not. Then I made my way toward his table.

Ethan looked up as I approached. Then he stood.

“Good evening, Bethany,” he said. “You’re on time. Excellent. Good manners are important.”

“Of course,” I said, through gritted teeth.

“I, too, can be courteous,” he said, “and to that end I’ve decided that you should not be forced to endure a third date in your…condition. I feel at this point you know me well enough to make your decision concerning whether Olivia should remain in my company or not. State your decision, Bethany. And then I’ll state my decision concerning you.”

I felt a sudden surge at Ethan’s words. A decision concerning me? That sounded…ominous. Sinister. Dark.

Darkly thrilling.

I shook my head. This was no time to be letting my horribly overheated clit think for me.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

“Indeed,” he said. He looked over at Olivia. “Olivia, please join us. Bethany would like to give us her decision.”

I was standing at the chair directly across from Ethan. Olivia stood behind the chair that was between he and I.

Ethan looked at me. “Well?”

Telling him to cut Olivia free was the right thing to do. But telling him that would likely leave me stuck in a condition of permanent heat. Never able to come. Letting my pussy make my every decision on the slight chance that I might be able to get off. Telling him to keep Olivia would doom her to a life as Ethan’s on-call slut and Underworld playtoy. But I’d be free.

And I’d get to fucking come.

I looked at Ethan. I looked at Olivia. Then I took a breath and said, “Cut her free.”

He looked at me, his wrong eyes glittering. Then he turned to Olivia.

“You heard him, my dear,” he said. “You’re free.”

Olivia’s fingers tickled the black choker locked around her throat. Then she smiled.

Ethan turned back to me. “Come with me,” he said. “Let’s attend to your condition, shall we?”

Olivia sidled next to me and took my hand. Together we followed Ethan to a back room. Once inside, he turned to me.

“Kneel,” he said.

I dropped to my knees before I’d even considered what he’d said. Fuck. He was too deep inside my head.

He stepped forward and unzipped his pants. Then he waited.

I gazed at his cock, my belly rumbling in protest. I couldn’t do it again so soon. I couldn’t.

But…

Oh, gawd. I could already taste him, feel the weight of his cock on my tongue, in my mouth.

And the weight of his expectation.

I had to.

I felt Olivia’s hands on my shoulders, lifting my hair, holding it as my head moved back and forth, my warm, wet mouth stroking over Ethan’s thick, potent cock, his shaft disappearing between my tightly-wrapped lips.

His dick was hard, rigid, throbbing with desire. He wanted this, wanted me to do this, so I had to do it. Suck his dick. Again. And again. And again. Whenever he wanted.

And when he came, when he filled my mouth with his heated seed, I helplessly swallowed it, ignoring my belly’s rumble of protest.

He came so much. And I couldn’t stop swallowing it. Filling my belly again.

He finally stopped, pulling his cock from between my swollen lips. Put his cock away.

“Such a good girl,” he said. “Doing what you’re meant to do.”

I looked at him. Dazed. I could only stare, unable to speak. He reached down and wrapped his hand around my throat. Then he lifted me to my feet and released me.

“Well, my sweet,” he said. “After all that hard work, I think you deserve a reward. And a reward you shall have.”

Olivia put her hands on my shoulder and guided me to a chair. She pressed me down, sat me in the chair.

Ethan stepped over, leaned over, reached underneath my skirt. He and Olivia pulled off my underwear.

I blinked, trying to process what they were doing. Then I felt his fingers on the outside of my pussy.

My overwhelming arousal made me hesitate for a moment. That was all he needed. He slid two fingers inside me.

I shuddered, moaning, the feel of his fingers inside me setting my already overheated senses on fire.

He slid a third finger inside me. Then a fourth.

Then he tucked in his thumb and pushed, applying pressure so that his entire hand was somehow impossibly sliding into my pussy.

My eyes widened and I grabbed his wrist with both my hands, but it was too late. His hand was fully inside me. Suddenly intuiting what he was about to do, I locked eyes with him and shook my head desperately. “No…!” I whispered.

Olivia stood behind my chair. I felt something sliding around my throat, locking in place. Olivia’s choker. Her collar. My collar.

Ethan smiled, his wrong eyes locked with mine, and said, “You may come, Bethany.” Then he curled his fingers into a fist.

And I, collared, helplessly locked onto Ethan’s fist inside my pussy, came.